


Askbox Fic Collection 5

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [59]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Askbox Fic, Assisted Suicide, Cats, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dreams, F/M, Foreign Language, Ghosts, Kittens, M/M, Other, Prompt Fic, Speculative, Strange Fish, a lease of hawkes, conlang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifth round of askbox fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shale, Sten, sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iapetus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iapetus/gifts), [autumnyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/gifts), [Serindrana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serindrana/gifts), [Rhiannon87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/gifts), [VespidaeQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VespidaeQueen/gifts), [greytaliesin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greytaliesin/gifts), [Combination_NC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Combination_NC/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Iapetusneume.

“You don’t sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak and fleshy. My body does not need such things, qunari,” Shale replies. Rather than question further, Sten nods and resumes patrol.

Deep down he thinks it somewhat comforting. This is one who will not fail in vigilance, or be failed by invigilance. This is one who will not be cut down in a place where he cannot see.


	2. Fenris, Anders, cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for autumnyte.

“Don’t you lay a finger on it.” Fenris swears the abomination is bristling, the feathers at his shoulders puffed out in indignance. The handful of tabby fluff meows insouciantly between them, and starts licking its nether regions.

“As if I would,” he grumbles, snatching the kitten up by the scruff of its neck and depositing it in one of Anders’ hands. “I happen to not dislike cats.”

“Oh. I suppose there’s a chance we could actually get along, then.”

“Don’t count on it, abomination.”


	3. Hawke/Anders, mage hoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for negacrow.

“Why?” Hawke grumbles. “Why can’t they make a single mage hood that doesn’t make me look like a shambling idiot? At this rate I’ll have to wear a darkspawn skull on my head, or somesuch.”

“I tried that, once,” Anders says. “It fit all right, but the stench was terrible and it crumbled at the first lovetap from a shade.” The lamplight casts strange shadows over the twists of his face, and Hawke can’t tell if his lover is jesting with him.

“You know, that needs to go in your manifesto.”

“HAWKE!”


	4. Alistair, Amell, fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for thewoofles.

“You’re not going to eat that, are you?” Alistair says hesitantly as they return to camp.

“Course I am!” Amell exclaims. “I caught it out of Lake Calenhad, fair and square.”

“Right. First, it jumped into the boat and nearly broke my ribs. Second, I don’t think it’s supposed to have three eyes, or teeth like that—or a beard. Third, even your mabari won’t come near it.” The aforementioned hound wuffs in approval, and pointedly turns his back on Amell, covering his eyes with his paws.


	5. Nathaniel, Cauthrien, Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Serindrana.

Fate bestows a final favour, as they both seek their Calling together. They clear several miles of the Deep Roads, their tainted blood not so different from that of their foes. When the more intelligent darkspawn see Cauthrien for what she is, start plucking at her limbs instead of her face, Nathaniel picks them off, mows them down, runs to her side. There is barely time for a kiss before the knife slides home and twists. He promised her he would not let them take her alive—the word of a Howe.


	6. Mabari, Warden, dreams of old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for rhiannon42.

He is a warrior without peer, a fearless lord of his kind. Enemies fall before his might. Their blood is bittersweet on his lips. His eyes are keen, his nose cold.

Then Dog wakes, paws splayed across the planed wooden floor, all the aches and pains of age fresh and real—yet just as real as the hand that drapes over the bedframe, which he nudges. His nose, at least, is still cold, as evidenced by the affectionate curses his master pours on him as worn fingers thread through fur and over scars.


	7. Varric, party, Hawke is not one person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Thesilverfeatheredraven

Mages. Elves. Refugees. Guards. And one dwarf. They are all bound by their duties, to be discharged in light or shadow. Never have all of them met.

Varric tells tales, turning twelve elves into two, adding the sly jokes of one mage to another, more solemn revolutionary. But he always leaves out one thing: the leather mask all party leaders wear, a dark beaked thing that muffles the voice and obscures eyes, ears and nose. It is a whole lease of Hawkes that fly over Kirkwall, for better or worse.


	8. Orlesian Warden, Oghren, Sigrun, dwarven beards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for championofpitfalls.

“Why do dwarves braid their beards?” the Orlesian Commander asks.

Oghren looks up, his drinky eye rolling in his socket before finally focusing on the human. “Keeps the whole sodding mess out of the tankard, doesn’t it?” he slurs before returning to his ale.

“And keeps a whole lot of other things in,” Sigrun quips. “We haven’t had cheese for a week, Oghren.”

“Is that what that was?” He fingers the old, dried morsel out of a plait and tastes. “Yep. Good eye. Wanna see what else you can find?”


	9. f!Brosca, Sten, possessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for minorearth

It’s Sten, it has to be—the only hornless figure in the wooden relief she flicked from his pocket. Maybe the surface has made her soft, maybe she recognises meaning over value—but she strides up to him in the morning, thrusting it at his shoulder.

“You dropped this,” Brosca says, daring him to say otherwise. He doesn’t, simply nodding and restoring the memento to its rightful place. “Who were those blokes, anyway?”

“Family,” Sten says, his voice a low rumble, and she knows she’s done right.


	10. Alistair, f!Warden, victory kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for aesthel.

They’re covered in blood and gore and who knows what else. But as the Warden emerges from the dust and smoke, grinning triumphantly with blade bared, Alistair opens his arms to her and closes his mouth over her own—and no kiss has ever tasted sweeter, or ever will again.


	11. Varric, Hawke, packing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for greytaliesin

For all of Varric’s skills, he simply cannot pack a trunk to save his life. Hawke looks blandly at the mishmash of clothes and supplies, then even more blandly at his companion. “I’m a shaker, not a mover,” the dwarf retorts. A chop here, a roll there, and several folds later, Varric’s expedition gear is packed with room to spare.

“Not bad, Hawke. Not bad at all.”

“I’ve had practice,” the apostate smiles, showing a sliver of teeth.


	12. Sten, Beresaad, visitations from the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for zimrathon.

He dreams of them once before the final battle: the Beresaad lost, clean of their wounds but their feet shrouded in a cloud of darkness. “You alone did not join us,” the ashaad says, his voice like wind in bamboo.

“This fight is not ended,” he replies, his gaze level. They smile.

“Then stand,” says the ashaad. “Fight,” says the karashok, raising a fist. “Win,” says the karasten, and Sten opens his eyes to a crimson dawn and the shadow of the Warden’s thin back. It begins, then—and so, it ends.


	13. Anders, Karl, language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for combination-nc.

“Sorry I’m late!” Anders trots into the room breezily, his arms full of books and socks and an old, lazy cat.

“ _No harm done,_ ” Karl says with a wave of his hand and a mouthful of words both foreign and familiar. “ _Sit. Let's talk. What have you gotten up to today?_ ” Anders sits, certain no templar is there to smack the words out of him, and converses with Karl in the tongue of his ancestors—one of the last secret freedoms they both have, though he’s not sure which of them savours it more.


End file.
